


Conference Conflict

by QuillMage



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-02
Updated: 2013-03-02
Packaged: 2017-12-04 02:34:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/705525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuillMage/pseuds/QuillMage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was difficult enough to prevent murder/declaration of nuclear war from occurring during that World Conference; however, the real problem came up after the meeting had already ended. "You'll have to be more specific; there are fifty of them, after all."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Conference Conflict

**Sometime between the 60’s and 90’s**

It had been Alfred’s turn to host the World Conference. Normally this wouldn’t have been a problem; however, due to some… _complications_ , it had to be held in the same location as a different conference. As in the same, thankfully large, but not near large enough, building.

This meeting was the United States Conference. Though Caroline calls it the Divided States Conference if only because she can—it’s not like anyone can say otherwise as it was rather close to the truth. Nevertheless, Penelope greatly disapproved of how some of the more younger members have taken to calling it that as well; though at least _they_ didn’t call it that all the time—Caroline doesn’t call it anything but.

The United States Conference is typically held whenever the World Conference is also taking place because Alfred isn’t there for his presence to unintentionally affect the proceedings; though if we were to be completely honest with ourselves, it’s really because a distraction is necessary to prevent utter chaos when their father is not readily on hand to put down a rebellion—surprisingly enough, Caroline is not the subject of main concern regarding this issue.

Being as it is, Alfred was reluctant to allow the two Conferences’ schedules to coincide as—while knowledge of his states’ personifications isn’t exactly a closely guarded secret, nor an openly proclaimed fact—he felt that if the other nations weren’t aware of his ‘internal politics’ it would be for the best. Thus, he couldn’t exactly protest to the others when he was, not asked, but _informed_ where exactly in his country the World Conference was to be held. He could only hope that none of the members of the two meetings crossed paths with one another.

Even he knew from the beginning that the wish had absolutely no chance whatsoever of coming true.

And of course it had to be that both of the conferences had ended at the same time, thus the participants had exited at the same time; and, _of course_ , the rooms that each of the meetings were being held in were facing each other. There was no possible way this was an accident, there just was not.

Hampton and Arthur had both walked out of the doors when they saw one another; it was difficult not to do so as their positions were no more than a few feet away from each other.

Arthur froze, feeling a hint of recognition at seeing the face of the other while Hampton fought down a scowl—as one of the Original Thirteen, he was less inclined to think highly of England, especially since the man shown no sign of recognizing him as New Hampshire and not some random person with some of the physical characteristics of America.

“It is a pleasure to see you once more, Mr. Kirkland.” He said with a great deal of stiffness.

Arthur merely stared in shock, “…Oh my.”

Noticing that Arthur had suddenly halted outside the door, rooted to the spot, some of the other nations approached the entrance to see what was going on. The other states had already begun to congregate around their own doorway, making the scene resemble somewhat like that of a showdown.

A beautiful young woman that was the embodiment of a Southern Belle moved to the front of the crowd of states, “What’s got Traitor so excited?”

A “My name is Wesley!” was heard from the back but she ignored him.

Unlike Hampton, Caroline had no qualms about letting a very unladylike scowl grace her face, “What are you doing here, old fart? I was under the impression the only annoyances I’d have to deal with were these damnable Yankees.” The words seemed so out of place coming from such a pretty mouth, Francis could not help but instantly jump on the fact.

“Oh non!” he said with rather unnecessary dramatics, “What has this world come to that such a belle jeune femme _[beautiful young woman]_ could speak such ugly words! What foul creature could allow such a thing to happen?”

“Shut up, France.” Alfred said glaring at the smirking man, though only able to do so with half the ferocity of Caroline, as he too pushed his way to the front of the crowd, though with a little more ease than her given there were less nations present than states.

“Now, now, don’t ruin his fun; I’m sure he was only kidding. Though I agree, Caroline, you really should speak a little nicer.”

“This is coming from the one who hosts an annual contest to see how many breasts can be swung around at one time.”

Louise blushed brightly; did she really have to say that in front of all these people?

“She must be yours then, frog.” Arthur said, still sore about the comment Caroline, who was no doubt the illustrious personification of South Carolina, had made and was now directing his irritation at the target that immediately presented itself.

Florence sighed, this was bound to have happened; thankfully she was descended from a somewhat less confrontational origin, “Can we just all calm down? Penny’s already going over her berating speech, I’m sure.”

“My, my, is _this_ what you set the Clock to 11:59 for, America?” Florence uncharacteristically jumped at hearing the voice of Cuba of all people ask the question with a curious tone, quickly shifting behind the nearest person, that being Caroline, while Cuba continued, “No wonder you were so worried, you’d have to watch an actual child of yours die.”

Florence shrunk back and Caroline narrowed her eyes at him as Charlotte joined her twin in standing protectively in front of Florida’s personification.

Cuba raised his hands in front of him, “I mean no harm, just an inquiry, nothing more.”

Charlotte glared, “Sure it is.”

“Stick your commie missiles up your ass and not pointing towards Florence, spic.” Caroline amended.

He merely smiled at the statement, “You are America’s children indeed.”

Caroline’s words caught Antonio’s attention, “Florence?” His eyes brightened and he pushed his way towards where Cuba was to shove him aside, Romano following in his wake. Antonio smiled at her as Florence peered between the Carolina twins at hearing Cuba’s cry of indignation at being so rudely pushed aside.

Completely ignoring the atmosphere as usual, Antonio walked straight through the unofficial line dividing the states and nations. He ruffled her hair, “Florence, you’ve grown so much.”

Romano looked over to the direction from which he felt the curious gaze of Illinois on him.

Slowly but surely, the other nations, tentatively following the example of some of the more atmosphere-illiterate ones, crossed the Unofficial Line to speak with the states. Francis especially was taking great joy in swapping complainants about Arthur, both new and old, with the Original Thirteen and other states as well.

However, Alfred had not made his way across aforementioned Unofficial Line for the moment he was about to, Russia had approached him from behind to stand by his right shoulder.

“And who might that one over there be, Amerika?” Russia gestured over to where Alfred’s two youngest, Lulu and Ginevra, stood off to the side, looking onto the scene of the nations and states’ interaction with mild fascination.

Alfred stiffened, he _hated_ how Russia always said his name like that—he knew Russia’s accent had nothing to do with the subtle hint of superiority present in his voice whenever he did so. “You’re going to have to be a _little_ more specific than that, there are fifty of them, you know.”

He could practically feel all positive vibes in the immediate vicinity fleeing in fright from the pleasant smile he knew Russia was giving from behind him, “Now Amerika,” there was that air of superiority again, “let us not play games, you know which one I speak of—the one with the beautiful violet eyes.”

“She gets them from her uncle.” Alfred replied somewhat sharply.

“Of course,” Russia said with a light edge of laughter in his voice that made it quite clear there was a ‘not’ attached to the end of those words, “What might her name be? Another one of those almost-puns, perhaps?”

“Not this time, Penny’d called dibs; she’s the one who picked Ginevra’s name. It means ‘white’ or ‘fair’ in Welsh or something, because of the landscape of her region I suppose.”

“Ginevra?” Russia said before placing a hand on Alfred’s shoulder to turn him around, “Or do you mean ‘Vera’? In truth, her name should be more along those lines, da?”

Alfred glared silently up at Russia, for that was exactly the case. Where Alaska originated from could not be denied, as Penelope had pointed out to him, one day they would have to tell Ginevra the truth and they did not want her to think she must deny who she is because the name she was given was chosen to forcibly hide her identity. However, Alfred had never planned nor expected Russia to meet Ginevra, so he had reluctantly agreed on the name; perhaps that had been a mistake.

Russia continued to smile pleasantly at Alfred as he said, “Her lovely eyes did not come from her uncle.” A statement with no room for debate. “She got them from her,” Russia chuckled, “Mother.”

‘Mother’ as in ‘Mother Russia’, very clever, Braginski, very clever.

Asshole.

Alfred shoved Russia’s hand off of his shoulder, “Ginevra is not Russian.” He growled, “No matter what you say, you commie bastard.”

A shiver ran up Alfred’s spine when—as he stepped away to stand just within arm’s reach but outside of the range to land a good, solid punch—a sinister and malicious gleam that bordered on, no, _was_ predatory rose in Russia’s eyes, “In title, no; but I suggest you guard her carefully. After all, she is so very near to my country. Close enough to just reach out and,” he ran his fingers lightly down Alfred’s cheek, “ _touch_.”

Surprisingly, it was not Alfred whose hand clamped down on Russia’s wrist, forcing it away from Alfred’s face, but rather, someone whose relationship with Ginevra was even closer than the bonds that she shared with her father and siblings—her uncle.

“You even _think_ about laying a finger on her, you shall regret it like nothing else.” Matthew uncharacteristically hissed. Almost no one ever noticed him at any point in time, so it was understandable Russia and Alfred had not realized Matthew had heard every word and had decided to make his presence quite clearly known instead of just waiting to be seen like he usually did, “I do not fear your General Winter and the rage of a polar bear cannot be stopped once it has been incited. Consider your options carefully before you take action against those I hold dear.”

Matthew released Russia who let his hand fall to his side, “I’ve rarely seen you so passionate, Kanada.” Alfred noted with slight annoyance that damn tone of superiority really _was_ only present when Russia spoke Alfred’s country name.

“You rarely see me at all.” Matthew countered with a cold dignity that reminded Russia of Canada’s heritage—that while he had first belonged to France, he had been one of England’s colonies for longer. Canada was the very image of what Russia’d once caught a glimpse of when the British Empire had been issuing an order to put down a rebellion in one of his smaller territories—and to crush the revolt absolutely, with no mercy whatsoever. It was a sight that Russia could acknowledge and respect.

Russia smiled pleasantly, “This is true; I shall be sure to take your words into account next time I…make plans. Иметь хороший день, Америка, Канада. _[Have a nice day, America, Canada.]_ ” He said nodding to each in turn before taking his leave, exiting the room and continuing down the hall without passing by where Ginevra and Lulu were standing.

Alfred turned to his brother, “I’m fairly sure she’s relatively safe for now, don’t you?”

Matthew nodded.

Alfred suddenly grinned, “But dude! That was so totally awesome! Man, you nearly scared the shit outta _me_ , Matt, and I wasn’t even the one it was directed at!”

Matthew only blushed sheepishly. 

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah...the rating was kinda just to be careful; you know, with the racial slur and all.  
> Anyways, first Hetalia fic! By the way, I don’t own Hetalia. (I almost forgot the disclaimer)  
> ‘Vera’ means ‘truth’ or ‘faith’, Russia was making a Stealth Pun.  
> On a side note, Cuba really was only curious, however, after the Cuban Missile Crisis (thus the reference to the ‘Clock’ or otherwise known as the ‘Doomsday Clock’), Florida is understandably nervous around him. As for South Carolina, she has a soft spot for those who were part of the Confederacy and is generally hostile to everyone else, especially West Virginia for defecting during the Civil War though Virgil/Virginia himself bears no such grudge.  
> Oh, and if anyone’s wondering why Illinois was looking at Romano, it was because Chicago is in Illinois and since the Mafia was Italian...  
> Ok, the thing about the ‘who’s related to who (or is it ‘whom’?)’, there’s no mpreg or whatever; think of it like an adoptive parent kind of thing. Except it’s more like ‘father’ and ‘biological father’ than ‘adoptive father’ and ‘father’. Do you get what I’m sayin’?  
> Err...probably not. Crap. Well anyways, I hope you liked it!  
> EDIT: I realized in my bed last night that not all of you peoples would know who Charlotte is; she’s North Carolina as Charlotte is a major city there located near the Carolina/Carolina state line. Also Lulu is Hawaii because of Honolulu.


End file.
